


Improbable Love

by winstiel_28



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Not Related, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Dean, Boys Being Boys, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Boys Will Be Boys, Brotherly Love, Car Sex, Coming In Pants, Confused Sam, Cop Sam, Dom Dean, Dom/sub, Drunk Sex, Eventual Smut, Gay Dean, Gentle Sex, Hair Pulling, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Resolved Sexual Content, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smut, Smut and Angst, Sub Sam, Top Dean, Wincest - Freeform, anal penetration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-23 06:46:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2538146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winstiel_28/pseuds/winstiel_28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>'"Hey Wesson, what's up?" Dean had been so caught up in storytelling that he hadn't been watching him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"That man was in a relationship with a minor, Dean what he did to you wasn't right." Sam was finding it so hard to talk that he had to swallow a couple times.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Dude, that was ten years back. And he only did to me what I wanted him to do, nothing else." Dean explained.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Sam's inner cop was screaming at him, but of course he couldn't do anything now. The bastard was leading on a teenager whilst balancing a pregnant fiancé at the same time, it was sickening.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"No wonder you can't get attached to people." Sam shook his head and looked down to the ground, there were tears in his eyes and he didn't really know why.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Maybe you're right." Dean gulped loudly.'<i></i></i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Officer Wesson

Dean blinked a couple of times and winced at the sudden stiffness of his neck, yawning lightly, he glanced around the car trying to find the source of the continuous noise.

"Oh _shit_." He muttered bitterly under his breath and signalled to the cop standing outside his car that he was only going to be a second. Glancing across the other seat and subtly slipping a salt round that had missed his gun into his jacket pocket, Dean began to wind down the window of his Impala.

"Mornin', officer." Dean smiled his best: _I've done nothing wrong please don't look in the trunk of my car,_ face.

Dean figured that the officer was pretty tall, he couldn't see any sign of his body ending and had no idea where his shoulder started, leaning out of the car window slightly he looked up.

"Do you _know_ that you're not allowed to park here?" The cop must have been well over six foot, by _far_. And Dean couldn't help but think that he'd make a damn good hunter with that figure, the man had chestnut hair that hung just above his shoulders and hard, hazel eyes that glinted in the sunlight.

"Well _damn_ , I'm _sorry_ , I didn't realize." Dean smiled and looked up at the officer through his eyelashes and put on his best smirk that usually won the hearts of numerous men and women combined.

"Well, you see, I'm not sure you're telling the _truth_." The cop sighed and walked around the front of the impala, Dean couldn't help but admit that the cop's ass looked nice in his tight, navy blue trousers.

Dean saw the man pointing to a large sign just slightly above his head and swore once again under his breath.

' **NO STOPPING** ' it read in large bold letters. Dean knew that his cover was failing because the officer let out a little smile as he walked back around the car towards the driver's side.

"Listen officer-" Dean paused and decided the best thing for him to do would be to distract the cop "Hey, officer _wha_ t? What's your name?" The man signed and crossed his arms, before rolling his eyes and muttering:

" _Wesson_."

"Oh okay, _Officer Wesson_." Dean stopped and smirked once again at the police officer in front of him who looked like he was loosing his patience "Listen here, I haven't been feeling very well lately."

"Then you should have gone to a _doctor_." The cop broke in.

 _Damn_ , Dean thought, the man might be overly good looking with his shiny hair but was he sure good at answering everything?

"I've been on the road, I had no way of doing that." Dean knew that his voice was becoming lower but he couldn't help it, call it natural instinct.

"That's no way to speak to an officer of the law." Officer Wesson raised an eyebrow and Dean bit down hard on the inside of his mouth to stop himself from talking again.

" _Sorry_ , officer." Dean muttered through gritted teeth, glancing down at his watch and frowning, he was supposed to be meeting Bobby in an hour and a half and he was three _damn_ states away.

Wesson let out a triumphed little laugh and Dean couldn't help but think it made him sound slightly unprofessional.

"Listen here, I'm going to need to take down your name." Wesson ran a hand through his hair and glanced down at Dean.

"Is this _really_ necessary?" Dean sighed, shaking his head frustratedly.

"I can assure you it _is_." Wesson was enjoying this way too much, Dean had to hand it to him, he clearly took his job with a pinch of salt.

"Dean Winchester, _sir_." And as soon as he had spoken he mentally swore at himself, why the fuck hadn't he said one of his fake identities?!

"Well Mr _Winchester_ , if I catch you again, it's a fine. You got that, _son_?" Wesson explained, glancing up the quiet road to see if any cars has been disrupted by the two men's conversations.

" _Son_? _Dude_ , I'm _older_ than you." And Dean scoffed quietly, instantly regretting talking because he'd forgotten that the dick standing beside his car was actually a cop.

" _Mr_ Winchester." Wesson's voice sounded on the verge of tipping, Dean gripped the steering wheel and gave him most convincing, I'm sorry, smile.

" _Officer_ Wesson." Dean nodded his head slightly and watched as the cop's brow furrowed even further.

"Watch your _attitude_ , Mr Winchester." The officer was trying to keep professional but Dean could see he was testing his patience.

"I can _assure_ you I'll never bother you again, Officer Wesson." Dean went to put the key into the ignition but felt the cop pulling his hand back.

"Now, I'm not entirely sure you're allowed to _do_ that." Dean raised his eyebrow and went to smile at the officer again but stopped when he saw his serious expression.

"Listen here, I won't charge you if you leave the scene _now_ after assuring me you won't _ever_ do it again." Wesson raises his eyebrow and Dean saw a small hint of smile at the corners of his mouth. Damn, this man was annoying and pretty.

✙ ✙ ✙

Dean pulled up outside a small diner just outside of town, glancing inside to make sure there was enough seats left. He locked his car and trudged inside, the breeze blowing across the parking lot welcoming after the long drive in his stuffy Impala.

"Make it a double bacon cheeseburger, extra pickles and tomatoes and a diet coke, please _darlin_ '." Dean put on his best smoulder and watched as the young waitress behind the counter blush lightly and giggle slightly.

"Um, yeah sure." The girl bit her lip and ran her tongue along her bottom lip. Dean was certain that if he hadn't been gay, then he'd probably have wanted to do something with her in the back of the diner.

Dean moved over to the side to wait for the waitress as she got his burger ready and glanced up at him, strands of her curly ginger hair falling around her face. Dean had to admit that she was _more_ than pretty, with sparkling blue eyes, a splatter of freckles across the broad of her nose and long hair that ended near her waist, tied up in a high ponytail with her work hat over the top.

Dean thanked her and took the burger, sitting down at one of the tables in the back of the shop and answering the calls of his growling stomach.

 

"Do you make it a habit to _flirt_ with minors?" Dean heard a strangely familiar voice question from behind him as he was about to take a large bit into the burger in his hands.

"Dammit, did you _follow_ me here?" Dean paused "Even on cop terms that's a _little_ creepy, _right_?"

Without invitation, Wesson placed himself opposite Dean and put down his salad he'd just purchased at the front of the shop; he was out of his uniform and in a checked shirt and dark blue jeans.

"No, my shift finished and I was hungry." Wesson picked up his fork and began to stab at the green shit inside "Not that I have to explain myself to _you_."

"Uh, don't know if you remember but, _you_ came and sat down next to _me_." Dean raised his eyebrow and shook his head lightly, biting into his burger and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Why haven't you been feeling too well?" Wesson glanced up at Dean with his hazel eyes and the Winchester was slightly confused at his comment until he realized he was starting up a conversation they'd had earlier.

Dean smiled to himself and decided to tell the cop the truth, he'd never believe him and it would be funny to see the show unroll.

" _Um_ y'know, multiple stab wounds to my left side. I was actually travelling to one of my friends who was going to help me stitch 'em up." Dean chuckled in his throat and glanced up at the officer, hazel eyes meeting green.

"You're _not_ being _serious_." Wesson started, he put down his fork and leant against the table towards Dean.

"Don't ask if you don't want to know." Dean shrugged and carried on eating. Wesson was quiet for a few moments?

"Back to my previous question," Wesson started, sipping some orange juice through a white straw.

Dean looked up, waiting for the man to continue.

"Do you make a _habit_ of flirting with minors?" Wesson was being deadly serious.

Dean threw down his burger and let his head fall back, laughing loudly. The man in front of him looked slightly alarmed.

"I don't feel like I have to explain anything to _you_ but, I _don't_ think you have to worry about that." Dean smiled at himself and shook his head lightly.

"Iti's _my_ place to know." Wesson broke in, his eyes looking at Dean with a stern look flashing in them.

"Okay, well I'll have you _know_ , _Officer Wesson_ ," Dean put sarcastic emphasis on the man's name "that I am, _in fact, gay_." Dean watched Wesson move around uncomfortably as he chewed on his salad.

" _Oh_ , I'm sorry." He started, speaking as sincerely as he could.

"What? That I'm _gay_?" Dean as enjoying this way too much.

"You _know_ that wasn't what I meant." Wesson broke in, he knew he sounded unprofessional but for some reason, this man seemed to bring it out of him.

"Anyway, I find it a little weird that you know my full name, yet I only know one of yours." Dean paused and swigged two large mouthfuls of coke before continuing "I think it's only _fair_ if you share." Wesson rolled his eyes and contemplated telling the man his name.

After all, he was off duty and it wasn't like Dean had committed some terrible offence. "Not that it is any of your _business_ but, _Sam_." He paused "Sam Wesson."


	2. Warehouse B

Dean climbed into his car and glanced at the time, he was running so damn late that he'd had to call Bobby to cancel their plans of meeting. The older man had asked how Dean was going to cope with his side without getting the stitches redone, Dean just told the man he'd simply do them himself.

Putting the keys into the ignition, Dean listened to the soft purr of his little baby and couldn't help but let a small smile creep onto his face. His side was aching like fuck but it had been doing it for so long that he'd learnt to get used to it.

That Wesson guy had gone after finishing his salad and had told Dean: "I would say see you around, but it would probably be for a _bad_ reason." Sam Wesson had shrugged his shoulders and gone to shake Dean's hand, who had reluctantly allowed him to do so and then sat back and watched the tall cop leave the diner.

Now, Dean knew that maybe his lifestyle wasn't all normal; in fact, it was so unordinary that nobody would be believe him if he told them about it. But a hunter making friends with a damn _cop_? That was a story absolutely _nobody_ would believe. Not that Dean was under any false pretences that the police officer was his _friend_ , hunters simply didn't make friends outside of their own work, especially with the likes of a _cop_.

Officer Wesson was just a man Dean had had the misfortune of bumping into _twice_ , although the second time had been slightly too civil for his liking.

 

The road glided out in front of Dean and he decided to head back to his motel room so that he could sort out his probably infected, left side. Dean hummed quietly along to his favorite song that blared through his clear-sounding stereo and his head nodded along to the beat.

Even now, at the age of twenty-five, when Dean was driving and a good song came on the stereo, he had to act out like he was in the movies or something. Because, who doesn't do that when a badass song comes on? Dean tapped his hands against the steering wheel and nodded his head, pouting slightly and then laughing at himself for being so stupid.

" _Dammit_ I need some _friends_..." He muttered half bitterly, a small smile placed in the crook of his mouth as he turned down a small road and found himself back outside the motel where he'd left earlier that morning.

 

Paying a fare for five more nights, Dean sauntered down the hallway towards the small rooms and used the key one of the reception staff had given him to get inside. Dean sometimes got days where everything he planned to do got messed up and forgotten about, but today _really_ seemed to rock the boat.

He'd woken up in his car when he was supposed to be driving to Bobby's, been lectured by a small-town cop and then ate lunch with him in a diner. At least he could say he did something unusual, well of course different from the _usual_ unusual he dealt with.

Flopping back against a bed with the world's most lumpy mattress, Dean peeled his eyes open and stared blankly at the ceiling, he felt like a kid but, fucking hell he was _bored_.

Deciding that he'd do his stitches because he really had nothing better to do, Dean walked the small length of the motel room to his duffel bag the was placed on the moth bitten sofa and began fishing around for supplies inside.

He started out by placing himself on his right hand side on the corner of the bed so that his left hip was high in the air.

Taking a pair of scissors from a small material bag inside his duffel, Dean bit down hard against the insides of his mouth and pushed the metal objects under the stitches, beginning to cut away.

There wasn't much that Dean was afraid of doing, and he certainly wasn't afraid of taking out his own sutures, but _damn_ it was hard to do on himself. He found himself having to switch positions half way through stitching himself up and he'd even got one of the needles caught in the covers of bed and ripped some more skin away half way through.

Drinking a small glass of whiskey that he'd bought at a store after leaving the diner to help with his sutures, Dean put a large bandage over his hip and taped it up before walking carefully over to the small table where his laptop sat.

He'd being doing some research on some disturbances in a nearby warehouse, there had been many deaths there over the years that had stopped and started but Dean had seemingly got there at the right time because they'd started up again.

And because the Winchester wasn't in top condition, he was glad that what he was dealing with seemed to be an average spirit and nothing worse, he could deal with it pretty quickly if he prepared himself.

Dean had looked up the usual: dates of the attacks, the victims and if they were linked in any way, anybody that could have died in the warehouse in the past that's spirit could be vengeful. The list was near _endless_ and Dean had got enough information he needed and was ready to take on whatever it might be.

Of course it would have been easier with Bobby's help, he might have been able to look up enough info a couple of days back and could have already torched the sonovabitch. But he was working alone, and that meant that time would take a little longer than Dean might have liked.

✙ ✙ ✙

Sam climbed out of his car and pressed one of the buttons to lock it, it made a small clicking sound before pushing down the locks and sealing the doors. Long days at work always made Sam grouchy, he'd get up at five in the morning to go for a quick run, come back for a shower, make breakfast and then head to work until lunch when he'd get a break for a couple hours. After that it was time to return to duty until seven, and these damn long days did nothing for Wesson's attitude.

"Evening, Sam!" He heard a familiar voice shout from the kitchen as he shut the front door behind him and threw his work bag down at the bottom of the stairs. Sam wandered through the hallway and caught the welcoming scent of sizzling bacon as he neared the kitchen where he figured his girlfriend would be.

" _Hey_ Jess." He whispered gently after sneaking up behind her and wrapping his large hands round her hips.

Jumping slightly, Jessica Moore turned her head and laughed, bringing her boyfriend into a quick kiss before turning back to the cooker.

"How was your day?" She asked after a minute, pouring some kind of tomato sauce on top of the bacon and standing back slightly as it hissed in the pan, Sam's hands still wrapped protectively round her middle.

"Oh you know, the _usual_ ," Sam paused and walked over to the sink, pouring himself a tall glass of cold water "Saving people, fighting for _justice_."

"Oh _okay_ , Superman." Jess answered back quickly, shaking her head before chuckling at the sight of her boyfriend looking slightly offended and switching off the cooker, moving the pan to the countertop.

"No, to be honest I didn't do much today, just odd jobs mostly." Sam licked his lips at the sight of his dinner being poured out onto a plate in front of him and moved his hand down, clutching his growling stomach.

" _What_?! Nothing _exciting_ happened to Officer Wesson today?! How _damn_ terrible." Jess glanced around at her boyfriend and smiled at his mildly offended face. "Here," she started, pushing out her arm and handing Sam a large plate of food "grub's up."

Sam stood up and pulled off his shirt, throwing it onto the pile of dirty washing that was slowly becoming bigger and bigger in the corner of his and Jess' bedroom and traipsed into the bathroom.

Locking the door behind him and turning to the shower, he twisted the dial and waited as a loud his sounded and continuous spray of cold water splashed against the tiled floor. Pulling off his jeans and boxers, Sam shivered slightly and picked up his towel from one of the drawers, folding it up and putting it on the rack beside the shower so it would be easier for him to get it when he was done.

Placing a large hand under the spray, Sam felt it warming up and waited a couple more seconds before climbing inside and feeling the water instantly cling to his long hair and run down his toned body, his hazel eyes sealed tightly shut.

Singing subconsciously as he picked up the bar of soap from the small metal shelf inside the shower, Sam began to move it in his hands until he worked up a lather and then began to run them across his arms and chest until they were covered with a thin film of white soap.

Taking the shampoo and pouring a generous amount onto his right hand, Sam pushed it into his brown hair and used two hands to massage it in until it was covered and looking a lot shorter.

 

Jess had left a note on the bedside table saying she'd been called back to work because of an accident that had taken place in one of the old warehouses he'd inspected with a work partner a couple weeks ago, that was one of the bad things about the two's relationship, their jobs weren't the most reliable things.

Sam being an officer meant that he was sometimes called back into work to look about pieces of security footage, or go and stop youths from vandalising local properties.

And then there was Jess who worked as a doctor in the nearby town, she was sometimes called out to help emergencies that couldn't make it to the hospital in time.

So, as you could imagine, the relationship between the two twenty-somethings was sometimes a bit tested when one of them was always working.

Sighing, Sam threw the note back down onto the table and sat down on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his wet hair and closing his eyes. It had been the only night that week that Sam had come home from work not absolutely knackered and had wanted to sit down with Jess, maybe have a few drinks or watch a movie; but _no_ , it wasn't always as easy as he wanted it to be.

Trudging back downstairs, Sam switched on the telly and watched as the screen slowly began to go green before bursting to life and showing an old episode of _Friends_ that Jess must have been watching earlier that evening before he'd come home from work.

Settling down and leaning his head back against the couch, his hazel eyes slowly drooping shut, Sam felt more relaxed than he had done in a long time. And then his pager bleeped. Because of course Sam Wesson couldn't have a night where he could just relax and do nothing, maybe eat some junk food and watch some shit telly.

But no, his _fucking_ pager had gone off.

"Officer Wesson here." He'd spoken through gritted teeth, nostrils flaring angrily as he stared down at the pager as though it had done something to personally upset him.

"Yeah, we have a problem."

"Yeah well I figured _that_ much seeing as you _disturbed_ me." Wesson rolled his eyes and waited for a reply.

"Oh sorry, were you in the middle of _something_ with the missus?"

" _No_ for god's sake!" Sam replied angrily, shaking his head and continuing "What's the problem?"

"Down at the old warehouses, y'know, by the county lake? There's been a break-in, nothing to do with the murders but something else, I think you should check it out."

"Yes, I'll be right there." Sam sighed exasperatedly and threw down the pager, walking back up the stairs and getting changed into his uniform.

 

"Fucking _hell_. Can't get five _fucking_ minutes without working." Sam muttered bitterly before locking the front door behind him and heading out for again that evening to go back to work again for the third time in one day.

Sliding into the front seat and slamming the door shut behind him, Sam put his foot on the gas and pulled out of his drive, heading to the old warehouses where he had spent a lot of his time at work recently because of these mysterious murders.

The night had closed in pretty dark and it made it hard to drive on the roads without concentrating so much that Wesson was leaning forwards in his seat until his chest was nearly touching the steering wheel.

"What's happening here?" Sam asked quietly, shutting the car down behind him and picking up his hat, before placing it on his head and glancing at his partner.

"There's been a break-in, one of the locals called in to the sheriff's office and he rang me, told me to get you in too. From what I've heard, I'm pretty sure they're still in there." Officer Jacobs, a middle aged man who Sam had worked with since he'd started working for the police, stood in front of him with his arms crossed, a stern look on his wrinkly face.

"Well let's not waste any time, in we go." Sam motioned to a large rusting door that led to the warehouses and put his hand to the gun in his coat pocket; Jacobs did the same.

Sam had to admit, at night these warehouses could look pretty daunting, especially when he knew that there was someone inside who really shouldn't be.

Jacobs and Wesson split at the start of the warehouse and began to scan different areas, each going down the large rows of empty cardboard boxes and high metal racks that led to nothing.

✙ ✙ ✙

Dean flicked on his torch and stared into the darkness, his hand to his pocket, ready to retrieve his gun if needed. He'd chosen to come out the warehouse late at night purely because he didn't want to be caught by the old men that spent their days working in and around some of the other buildings near by.

Dean had looked back many files to see if anything had happened in the warehouse that might make a spirit stick to it, and sure enough, he'd found the answer.

In the late 50s the row of old abandoned warehouses that Dean was currently making his way through had been booming in the business world, one of them was a factory back then and the produce that left the buildings were sold to higher companies in cities and a lot of money was coming in.

One particular worker, a Mr Thomas Quinn was working in one of the warehouses when someone broke in and hid explosives within the shelves, set to go off that night, not to kill anyone but to wreck the business.

Quinn had been working late and was packing up to go home for the night when he heard something in the west corner of the warehouse he'd been working in. Walking to the back, he'd gone to investigate.

And the man who had planted the explosives was outside, hiding in the forest, waiting for the right time when he was going to blow the five buildings up. But he hadn't done it properly, and only a few of the explosives had gone off, breaking everything around them, including Thomas Quinn.

Since the early 60s, there have been ten men dying every single year, nobody knew why and nobody knew how to prevent it from happening.

 

Dean heard something moving from behind a few of the shelves and cocked his gun, bringing it out of his pocket and pushing it far in front of him in the darkness.

"Come and get me you _sonovabitch_!" He growled into the dark, moving around in a small circle until he had checked all of the area around him and knew that it was safe.

Sam heard something from the back of Warehouse B, moving in close and making sure he wasn't being too obvious, he hid behind a large row of boxes and waited.

Hearing a man's voice shout from the center, Sam frowned slightly and racked his brain to see how he knew it.

Was it one of the guys from the gas station? _No_. Was it Billy Connell, the sixteen year old from the town who had already been in trouble with the law over five times? _No_.

So who the _fuck_ was it? And then Sam realized, he couldn't help but roll his eyes and step away from his hiding place, right into the light of a strong torch.

"Dean Winchester, I _thought_ I told you I didn't want to _see_ you again."


	3. Settle Down

"Give your full name and date of birth, please."

"Dean Winchester, 24th January 1979." He sighed and bit the corner of his nail subconsciously, glancing down at the fat officer in front of him and tapping his foot against the hard floor repetitively.

"That makes you twenty-five, correct?" The officer questioned.

"Twenty-five. _Well done_." Dean raised his eyebrow and rolled his eyes.

"Watch your _lip_ , son." The officer stated through gritted teeth.

" _Sorry_." Dean fake surrendered, lifting his hands in the air and stopping suddenly as the cop glared at him and put his hand on his pager, threatening to call help.

"Where are you from?"

"Lawrence, Kansas." Dean replied, his tone low and boring.

This went on for some time, by the end of the questioning Dean felt like his legs were going to break beneath him, couldn't they spare a damn _chair_ for him to rest on?

"Breaking and entering is a criminal offence." The officer explained, looking at Dean like he might be retarded or something.

" _Gee_ , I never knew _that_!" Dean exclaimed, making his green eyes wide and opening his mouth into a surprised 'o' shape.

"Well the joke's on you if you _actually_ think that tone is gonna get you anywhere. You'd have to be pretty damn _stupid_ to talk to an officer of the law like that." The cop raised an eyebrow and leant back in the chair, glancing down at his watch before turning back to the Winchester.

"I can assure you I am _sincerely_ sorry." Dean didn't even care that he was in trouble, he always found a way to get out of these shit county jails.

"We are gonna keep you in over night, procedure y'know?" The officer stopped and cleared his throat before continuing "We will see where it goes tomorrow."

Dean was led around the back of the office through a long hallway lit with three strips of fluorescent lighting.

"Hey, can I make a quick call?" Dean asked as he trudged down the walk with the officer in tow.

"Make it snappy." The officer guided Dean to one of the phone booths outside his office and stood beside it as Dean whacked a familiar number in at lightning speed.

 

" _Dean_?" A familiar southern drawl growled through the phone.

"How'd you know it was me?" Dean was actually curious, maybe Bobby could see through phones and stuff.

"Cos this is my Winchester number, nobody else knows it. And y'know, seeing as your dad..." Bobby found no need in continuing, he knew Dean would know what he meant.

"Oh cool, listen Bobby, I've got a bit of a problem." Dean bit his lip and waited for the lecture he knew was coming from Bobby Singer.

"Oh for _fuck_ sake, what _this_ time Dean?" Bobby sounded so done with the situation before Dean had already explained what had happened.

"Let's just say I'm in county jail." Dean physically winced, waiting for Bobby to start shouting and screaming.

"For pity's _sake_ boy, what'd you do this time?" Bobby sighed and shook his head.

"It's what I was coming up to you to talk about, listen I only had a little while to talk to you, I gotta go." Dean paused and heard Bobby sigh on the other side "I'll talk when I can."

"Alright, goodbye you fucking _idjit_ , try not to get into anymore trouble." And then the line was cut out and all Dean could hear was a high-pitched screeching sound.

"Come with me." The officer started up again.

✙ ✙ ✙

Dean found himself being shut in a small rectangular cell with a bench for a bed and a circular metal thing for him to piss in.

A door behind was opened and Dean craned his neck to see who it was.

"Oh _look_! It's my old friend _Officer Wesson_!" Dean faked a cheery voice and put his hands on the bars around him, he fucking _hated_ being confined.

"I wouldn't say old _friend_ if I were you, what the _hell_ were you doing in there?" Sam shook his head and pulled up a stall, placing himself on it and taking his hat off, raking a hand through his hair and looking at the Winchester with a raised eyebrow.

"Now, I don't think that's a question I need to answer right now, I mean, unless this is some new form of interrogation, I'm pretty sure I'm _not_ wrong." Dean nodded his head slightly and crossed his arms, waiting for an answer.

"You say that like you've been here before." Sam paused and Dean just nodded, confirming his statement "And a man can be curious, _right_?"

Dean trudged over to the corner of his cell and placed himself on the bench, stretching out and trying to make himself look comfortable.

"Hey, what's that?" Sam pointed down to Dean's side and the Winchester followed the officer's finger until he saw his bandaged side, he'd forgotten to change the dressing and it was seeping blood.

"I told you _earlier_ , stab wound." Dean shrugged his shoulders as though it was simple and then began to peel away the bandage, he was pretty sure it was that that was irritating his sutures.

"Did someone stitch that up for you? Or did you go to the hospital?" Sam leant in, his forehead creased as he questioned.

"I did it _myself_." Dean paused and looked down "Not my best work if I'm honest, seriously though, you give me someone else with a stab wound and I can make 'em look as _good_ as new." Dean winked and chuckled lightly under his breath.

"I think you might be crazy..." Wesson muttered so quietly under his breath that he didn't expect Dean to hear.

"That my friend, is where you're _right_." And Dean winked at Wesson and he frowned slightly, this clearly wasn't your everyday criminal.

"So _Winchester_ , what do you do for work?" Sam was trying to ask normal questions that might get the topic away from Dean being a little more than creepy.

"Oh this and that, nothing that really stands out." Dean was trying to tread carefully, didn't want to break any cover he had "It's not important."

"Well you see, that's where you start sounding a _little_ suspicious." Sam raised an eyebrow and stood up, he knew that he shouldn't be sitting in one of the confinements talking to a convicted criminal, but there was something about Dean that made it hard for him not to want to talk.

"Nothing suspicious about it _all_ , just odd jobs that don't really need explaining." Dean shrugged his shoulders one more time and sat up, his side was really starting to hurt now.

"You okay?" This Wesson man had eyes like a damn hawk.

"No, not _really_." Dean winced and brought his hand down to his side, clutching it and trying to get the continuous stinging to stop. "You got any bandages and some tape? Something like that would be _real_ good right now."

Sam wondered if he should really be following this man's instructions, but his side looked damn sore and as he said, there was something strange about the Winchester that made Wesson want to listen and help.

Standing up and fumbling around in some of the drawers behind the door, Sam tossed some tape over his shoulder and then found a roll of bandages, along with some scissors.

Now, he might have been breaking a couple rules by sitting talking to him, but he sure wasn't stupid enough to give him _scissors_.

So, cutting him off a reasonable amount of bandage and handing it to Dean through the bars along with the tape, Sam stood over making sure he wasn't doing anything he shouldn't be.

"Thanks." Dean stated, he took the stuff and felt his fingers brushing against Sam's warm hands. As he did so, something shot from the insides of his fingertips and sent electric nerves running all down his body. From the startled look on Wesson's face, Dean was pretty sure that Sam had felt it too.

Glancing down at his left hand, Sam felt the ghost of Dean's touch and had to shake his head to get these weird thoughts that were clouding inside out so that he could think straight. What the _fuck_ was happening?

 

"So, has Sam Wesson got a _missus_?" Dean asked after a while of awkward silence, he wasn't really sure why he had asked but it was something bugging him.

Officer Wesson frowned slightly and looked at Dean to make sure he wasn't doing anything he shouldn't be, he was half tempted to leave just because he didn't know if he should be talking to him like he was but, for some reason he decided he was going to stay.

"Yeah, a girlfriend." Sam paused and shrugged, he didn't even bother trying to keep up his cop act now, there was no point now that they'd starting talking properly "She's a _doctor_."

"You seem pretty proud of that." Dean couldn't help but smile. It was kind of cute to see someone look so happy thinking about someone they loved, he'd never really had that experience before.

"Well, she's _special_ , y'know?" Sam shrugged his shoulders and felt himself blushing, it wasn't really from the thought of Jess, but from the fucking cute smile Dean was giving him from the corner of his cell.

"That's real _sweet_ , Wesson." Dean raised an eyebrow and sat back down, making sure to avoid his side.

"And what about _you_? You seem the sort of _Lone Ranger_ type but, you've also got that look about you that might say a lot of people want you." And then when he'd said it, Sam wanted to hit himself in the face. What the fuck had he said _that_ for?! _Wow_ , now Dean would think he was trying to come on to him or something.

" _Woah_ , that's a little forward, Sam." And Sam couldn't help but think that Dean sounded real cute when he said his name

"And no, I mean _look_ at me, I'm not really the ' _settling down_ ' type." Sam cleared his throat and leant forwards wanting to say something but deciding not to, this conversation had already surprised him enough already.

"Well, _why_? Maybe you should settle down and find someone. You might not end up getting in trouble with the law then." Sam was speaking seriously and everything had seemed to go quiet.

Dean scoffed at that before starting up again: "Well maybe I've tried, and maybe that's why I ' _get in trouble with the law_.'" Dean put a lot of sarcastic emphasis on his last statement.

"Why?" Sam was more than curious.

"Because people don't like me. Not like _that_ anyway." Dean was speaking so sincerely that Sam was starting to feel sorry for him.

"What do you mean?"

"I only have one person in my life that really cares for me, y'know? And that isn't even a relationship, that's a man that's acted like my father all my life when my real one couldn't be there for me. Apart from that, nobody wants to stick around for Dean _fucking_ Winchester." And Sam could tell that he'd really hit something here, because he swore that he could see Dean's eyes glistening, with tears maybe?

"Who's this man?" Sam's voice had gone quiet and gentle.

"My uncle Bobby, Bobby Singer." Dean replied quietly.

"Is he your real uncle?"

"No." Dean shook his head and blinked hard. The tears disappeared and he smiled at Sam, his face still looking slightly sarcastic, that constant smirk still in place. It was like he didn't want to come out from behind the mask and show the face that came along with his true feelings.

"Oh well, he must have some sort of effect on you if you call him family." Sam shrugged and took a tissue from the side on one of the tables and walked over to the cell, pushing his arm through the bars and offering it to Dean.

"What would I need _that_ for?" Dean asked, but he took it anyway and scrunched it up in his fists before bringing it to his emerald eyes.

"Cut the _crap_ Winchester, crying isn't _that_ bad." Wesson stated, sitting back down and leaning his back against the white brick wall.

Dean didn't know how to answer that, so he stayed silent and waited for Sam to start up again.

"So, how long have you known you were gay?" There wasn't a hint of humour in his voice, Wesson was being genuinely serious.

"Now, that's a _hard one_." And Dean glanced round to see if Sam might have got his dirty pun, from the look on his face, Dean was pretty sure he _had_.

"I've got as long as you want." Sam pushed out his legs and tried to look relaxed, he'd stopped worrying if Jess would have gotten home yet, her job usually took her long in to the night and she never worried about how he felt about it.

"Okay well, the first time I saw a guy and thought that I liked him more than I would a friend. And the first time I realized girls weren't really my thing, I think I must have been around thirteen." Dean thought about it, looking up to the ceiling before confirming his statement with a quick nod.

"That's _pretty_ young." Sam started, looking interested, before continuing "How did your family react?"

"Well that's the funny thing," Dean began, and Sam knew that his story wasn't going to be remotely funny. "My mom died when I was four, but I won't go into that _now_. My dad took to the road and y'know, he was the sort of man that hated anything against normality. So, me being _gay_? Well he would have fucking _disowned_ me a _long_ time before he did."

" _Shit_..." Sam muttered under his breath, he realized how unprofessional he was being, but to be honest, he didn't really give a crap.

"Shit _indeed_." Dean confirmed , looking around small room awkwardly, waiting for what would come next.

"So, what did you do about it?"

"Do about _what_?" Dean was slightly confused.

"Well, how did you go about being gay? What with your dad like he is and everything." Sam asked.

"Oh, I _don't_ have to worry about my dad caring anymore." Dean tried to smile and didn't realize how sad he must have looked, because he could actually hear Sam gasp from where he was sitting.

"Oh my god, I'm _so_ sorry Dean." The words were catching in Sam's throat and he felt so fucking bad that he was actually tempted to let Dean out, but of course he'd lose his job.

" _Nah_ don't be, you weren't to know, _right_?" Dean stopped and then decided to carry on his story

"Anyway, when I was younger there was obviously nothing I could do about it. I moved high school almost every other _weekend_ and that was it, I'd like boys but I couldn't do anything. When I was old enough and dad thought he could leave me alone in the motel rooms without me doing anything, I met this boy. He was older than me, but he treat me _real_ nice, y'know? Anyway, we saw each other on and off for almost two years, it was difficult because I moved so much but we managed, but then something happened..."

Dean stopped a second and sounded really, really upset.

"What happened Dean?" Sam was so engrossed in the story that he hadn't noticed how far forward he was leaning in his chair.

"He got married because his girlfriend was _pregnant_." Dean's voice almost caught in his throat, but he just managed to stop it, only just.

"Dean?" Sam suddenly sounded really concerned "How old was this man?"

Dean thought about it for a second before answering "When we first met, I think he was almost twenty-two."

"And how old were you?" Sam's voice was tight and strained, he was gritting his teeth and hoping that Dean had been nearer twenty or something.

"The first time I did anything with him, I was fifteen." Dean turned around and smiled, not seeing anything wrong with the situation, he was programmed to not have anything normal in his life, so this particular event was almost nothing.

Sam was quiet and Dean looked up to see what he was doing, he didn't think he'd ever seen a man look so damn angry before.

"Hey Wesson, what's up?" Dean had been so caught up in storytelling that he hadn't been watching him.

"That man was in a relationship with a _minor_ , Dean what he did to you wasn't _right_." Sam was finding it so hard to talk that he had to swallow a couple times.

" _Dude_ , that was ten _years_ back. And he only did to me what I wanted him to do, nothing else." Dean explained.

Sam's inner cop was screaming at him, but of course he couldn't do anything now. The bastard was leading on a teenager whilst balancing a pregnant fiancé at the same time, it was sickening.

"No _wonder_ you can't get attached to people." Sam shook his head and looked down to the ground, there were tears in his eyes and he didn't really know why. "

Maybe you're right." Dean gulped loudly.

"You didn't actually do anything _serious_ with him, did you?" Sam's eyes were so sad that it was making Dean feel upset.

" _Bit_ of an awkward conversation but, it was mostly kissing and blowjobs when we first met." Dean shook his head as though he didn't like thinking about it, then continued "He was the man who took my virginity on my sixteenth birthday."

" _Wait_ , weren't you with your dad on your _sixteenth_?" Sam was just starting to dislike the people in Dean's life more and more after every second, he felt so _fucking_ bad for him.

"No, that was one of the first times he disappeared for a real long time. After that, he did it frequently."

"Fucking _hell_ Dean!" Sam wasn't even sure he was swearing, he was just so outraged.

"It's not _that_ bad, seriously." Dean shrugged his shoulders.

"It _is_." Sam confirmed sternly.

The thing was, Dean remembered losing his virginity like it was yesterday, he remembered feeling so special when he'd been told how lovely he was; and how false that had felt when it had actually happened. How much it fucking hurt afterwards, it made him want to be _sick_ just thinking about it ten years later.

"I don't want to think of you being used like that." Sam whispered, his hazel eyes glued to the floor.

"It really _doesn't_ matter anymore, it happened and I can't change the past." Dean looked down at his hands and suddenly felt more awkward than he had done in a very long time.

"I would _never_ have treated you _anything_ like that, thinking about it is making me angry." Sam confessed, he spoke quietly but with a steady tone, trying so hard not to break under the sudden pressure.

Dean slowly looked up and hazel eyes met green, locking and staring so deeply into each other that everything else in the room seemed to disintegrate around them, float away and disappear as they looked so deeply into each other's blackening pupils.

" _Sam_ , we only met _today_ , and that was because you were being all _bad cop_ on my ass cos I parked in a no parking zone." Dean let a small smile slide across his face and the awkwardness rose and left the room, along with Sam's sad expression.

"Yeah well, no parking zone means no parking zone." Sam chuckled lightly under his breath and glanced back up at Dean again.

"It's late, how long are you working tonight?" Dean asked as he stared up at the large clock in the corner of the room. It was the first time that Sam had realized he might have stayed a little later than intended.

" _Shit_..." He muttered under his breath as he saw that it was almost midnight, Jess was bound to be home soon, only to find her boyfriend had also left her a note saying he was working as she had done to him only hours before.

"Go if you need to, I'm a _big_ boy, I think I can deal with this all on my own." Dean nodded his head and his green eyes sparkled as he smiled warmly at the cop who looked as though he was contemplating staying or going.


	4. Empty Promises

Dean was awoken by the sounds of something loud banging against something metal, wincing and opening his eyes slowly, Dean looked up to see where it was coming from.

"What the _fuck_...?" He mumbled confusedly under his breath, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands and glancing around at his surroundings.

"It's _prison_ son, did you forget?" The fat officer was back again and Dean groaned loudly, letting the memories slowly flood back to him a he remembered the events of the night before.

"You need to get up, I gotta question you this morning and see if you're gonna need to stay or not." The officer began fiddling around with a large chain of keys, pulling one back before looking at another, then carrying on this process for a good two minutes.

" _Oh joy._.." Dean muttered sarcastically to himself, standing up and stretching out before walking over to the corner to take a leak.

✙ ✙ ✙

"Tell me what you were doing in Warehouse B down by the old county river." The officer had an old fashioned tap recorder in his podgy hand and was tapping his foot against the floor as he knocked in a few buttons and waited for his device to start recording their conversation.

"I'm _sorry_ , it won't happen again." Dean knew he wasn't making any sense but couldn't think of a logical lie he could tell the cop to get him off his case, this was fucking ridiculous.

He'd found the damn thing and hadn't even been able to get rid of it, stupid officers didn't understand what helping people really was.

"Can you _not_ answer my question?"

" _Look_ , I now know that what I did was wrong, and I'm telling you that I _promise_ it will never happen, _ever_ again." Dean spoke as sincerely as he could muster, making his emerald eyes a little wider than usual and making his voice sound as though it was on the verge of tipping point; he'd been in this situation _a lot_ of times...

"What were you planning on doing in there?" Thank _god_. A question Dean might _actually_ be able to lie about.

"Look, I was in a bad mood and that seemed like a thing to do, I wanted to do something dangerous, and I did. It was a stupid mistake and I _swear_ to god that I would never do anything like that again." Dean shook his head and sat back in the chair, crossing his arms and secretly thanking himself that neither cop had seen him with his gun out.

For some strange reason, Dean's usual Winchester luck turned and the fool of an officer was actually _believing_ him, this had _never_ happened before, like, _ever_.

 

"If I _ever_ catch you causing trouble around these parts again, I'll take it on _personally_ to bust your sorry ass." Officer Jacobs, Dean had found out his name not long after their interview, told him with stern eyes before patting him on the back and sending him on his merry way.

This was _great_ , Dean thought to himself as he strolled across the parking lot towards his shiny Impala that was begging him to get inside and drive, for once he'd actually got out a county jail without breaking anymore laws.

 

Looking down at his watch, Dean saw that it was still only early and that he should probably go out and grab a bite to eat but, he just felt so damn dirty from sitting in that cell all night that the only thing he wanted to do was shower, that sounded real good.

So starting up the engine and pushing his foot down on the gas, Dean rolled out of the parking lot and soon found himself back outside the motel where he had found himself the day before, just before his arrest.

 

Throwing down his stuff and stripping off, Dean threw his dirty clothes down on the bed and reminded himself that he'd need to take a trip down to the laundrette later that day, and strolled into the bathroom, locking the door behind him and taking down one of the paper-thin towels from the shelf.

Standing naked with one hand under the flow of water, Dean felt the temperature rise from freezing cold to, I'm going to burn the skin off your hand if you don't move it in a second, and yanked his hand away, wincing and shaking it off, turning the dial down slightly so it cooled down.

Taking off the bandage at his side, Dean rubbed against the edges of his stitches and his nostrils flared with a slight plain as he saw something oozing out the side of one of them; his suture working was fucking crap when he was trying to do it to himself.

Climbing inside and letting the warm water run all the way down him, Dean made a satisfied noise and moved so his whole body as right underneath the steady flow, feeling it patter gently against his brown hair and run down his muscular back and chest.

Taking up a bar of soap, Dean rubbed it back and forth in his hands until he worked up some bubbles and then took it to his hair, covering the short, spiky strands with a thin layer of white and then out his head back underneath the shower head and watched it run off.

He then did the same on his arms and shoulders, then running it along his chest until he reached the pubic bone just above his dick.

Biting his lip, Dean contemplated. He hadn't done _it_ in a long time, thinking back, he hadn't done it since about five weeks ago when he'd had a real lonely night at some nameless motel.

Gulping loudly and moving his hand down, he felt the sudden twitch of his cock beneath his soft fingers and couldn't ignore the fiery sensation he felt growing all over his body. Damn, once he'd started, he could never stop.

But this time round as Dean slowly began working his fingers up and down his long, hardening shaft, the Winchester was thinking of something that was really surprising him.

"Ah _fuck, yes_..." He groaned quietly under his breath, his green eyes sealing shut as his movements became more fierce and his hips began to buck against the touch of his own hand.

He could see a smile with a row of perfect white teeth, a tanned face with defined cheekbones, warming eyes, taught muscles underneath a shirt and pants, and chestnut hair messed just the right way.

 _Jesus_ , Dean was thinking of _Officer Sam Wesson_ , emphasis on the word _officer_. What the _fuck_ was happening to him? One moment he was on the road with a bad injury and now he was jerking off over a damn _cop_.

Feeling himself becoming ever harder (which was strange, because Dean didn't think he could actually _get_ any harder) he leant against he tiled wall, throwing his head back and biting down hard onto the insides of his mouth.

✙ ✙ ✙

Pulling up in his driveway, Sam remembered doing the exact same thing the night before, only his circumstances were slightly different.

Yesterday he was coming home from work feeling pissed be chase of he long hours; this morning his was coming home with something that felt oddly like butterflies smashing around in the inside of his stomach.

"Damn, I'm acting like a hormonal _high_ _school_ _girl_." Sam muttered to himself, rolling his eyes and climbing out before trudging towards his front door and letting himself in.

Today was a Friday, Jess always had the mornings off on Fridays and she usually spent them going out with friends, so it meant that Sam would have some alone time to think over what had happened when he had spoken to Dean the night before.

Throwing down his keys, Sam ran a hand through his hair and yawned deeply, _fuck_ thinking about what had happened, he was damn tired. Taking off his work clothes and shoving them into the washing machine, before punching out a few buttons, Sam trudged up the stairs in his underwear and went into the bathroom to pee.

As Sam pulled his boxers back up and then hear something muffled coming from the other room.

"What the _hell_...?" Sam asked under his breath, his brow furrowing as he cautiously walked towards the door and through the hallway, towards his and Jess' shared bedroom. Putting a hand down on the brass handle, Sam was waiting for the worst inside, and he sure didn't have to wait to find out.

"Oh my fucking _god_ , Sam!" Jess shrieked, yanking the duvet over herself as her green eyes grew wide with horror.

"What the fuck... _Jess_?" Sam's voice had gone quiet, he out his hands by his sides and frowned forwards, was this some kind of nightmare or something? This _couldn't_ be happening right now.

"I-I _can_ e-explain." She stammered to herself, covering the man up with the covers beside her as she climbed out out of bed, being careful not to show Sam any of her naked self.

" _No_." Sam's nostrils flared angrily and he clenched his fists " _Don't_."

" _Please_..." Jess whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

"Jess, _why_ are you doing this?" Sam paused, shaking his head before continuing "I'm gonna leave."

He wasn't really thinking about what he was doing, he picked up one of his bags, throwing in some clothes, all of the things he's need for a couple of days, his work clothes and some bathroom supplies.

Ignoring Jess' pleas as she turned the victim on herself, Sam took his pager and pocketed it before picking up his car keys that he'd put down only minutes before and slamming the door behind him.

The thing that hurt the most was that he was sure the man Jess was in bed with was one of her work colleagues that the two had been on numerous double dates with, it was making him feel sick just thinking about it.

✙ ✙ ✙

Dean took up his motel room key and put it in the side pocket of his tattered jeans before shutting the door behind him and slipping his wallet into his flannel pocket.

He _deserved_ a drink, he'd slept off most of the day after his shower and he knew there was no point trying to start up the case again the same night he'd just left the prison, it was way too risky.

So, walking down the carpeted hallways with the odd stains lining the floors, Dean walked round and round different corners trying to get to reception, swinging his car keys in his right hand.

Walking down the last lot of stairs and turning the bend towards where the front entrance was, Dean greeted the reception girl and stopped in his tracks at the sound of a familiar voice.

" _Wesson_?" He asked, turning his head, lines crossing against his forehead as he wondered why on earth a man like him would be in a shitty motel like this.

Sam turned around and Dean saw the tell-tale signs of someone who had recently been crying, his eyes were puffed out and bloodshot and he just looked so done with everything that the Winchester felt s sinking feeling inside his stomach.


	5. This Was The Start

Dean threw down his keys back where they had been only five minutes before and glanced around at the man standing in the doorway with a concerned look running down his face.

"What's wrong, Sam?" He asked quietly, motioning for the cop to sit on the beaten sofa in the middle of the room and placing himself down gently beside him.

"Why are you here?" Sam ignored Dean's question and sparked up one of his own, his voice still slightly higher than usual and the blotchy redness of his eyes still visible.

"Don't avoid the question, Wesson." Dean raised an eyebrow and gently nudged Sam on the arm with his elbow, waiting for the cop to look up at him before trying to smile kindly so that Sam would feel comfortable.

"It's Jess." Sam sighed and shook his head, letting his long strands of brown hair cast shadows over his tanned face.

"Wait, _who_?" And then it clicked "Oh, your girlfriend?" Dean had a real sinking feeling that this woman had done something bad to Wesson.

"Yeah." Sam muttered quietly, not trying to catch Winchester's eye as he began to explain "I came home from my night shift and I thought I was home alone, I went upstairs and Jess was in bed, with one of the doctors at the hospital she works at."

"Oh _shit_. Really?" Dean put his hands out and pulled Sam round until he was facing him, his emerald eyes wide and concerned.

Sam felt a lump catching in his throat and knew that his voice would deceive him if he spoke, so he just shook his head gently and knew that Dean had got the gesture.

"Damn, I'm sorry." Dean Winchester had never been one for relationships, so he didn't really know how to comfort someone who had had problems with theirs. All he did know was that, when he'd found out about his boyfriend having a pregnant fiancé, all he'd wanted was someone to hold him and tell him that everything would end out peachy.

"You don't really _sound_ it." And it was the first time Dean had seen a small smile place itself on Sam's face, a split second where his tear-filled eyes seemed a little brighter, and the sadness on his face disappeared for a few seconds.

"Hey, I'm new to this." Dean protested, crossing his arms and sticking his chin out.

"You're pouting again." Sam was sitting up now, he dug his palms into his eyes and let the tears dry out before laughing quietly under his breath.

"You're supposed to be upset, stop _bullying_ me." Dean shot back, trying to keep up the annoyed face but letting a small smile slip through his facade. "Did you see it coming?"

"Surprisingly, no I didn't." Sam paused and squinted, looking up and clearly thinking about something before continuing "But when I found out, it kind of made sense."

Dean nodded and stood up, walking over to one of the dirty cupboards and pulling out a new bottle of whiskey he'd purchased earlier that day, before taking two small glasses and bringing them back to the couch again.

He poured two small cups and handed one to Sam, who took it gratefully. Tipping back a small mouthful of the fiery liquid, Dean let it splash against his throat before pushing it down.

"So why are you in this shitty motel?" Sam asked after a minute, Dean hadn't spoken much because he didn't know what would make the man feel better or worse.

"Ah, that's not really for now. But to summarise, I don't really have a particular home, never have done to be honest. Not since my dad started moving around, after that, I kind of took it up." Dean shrugged and then drank a little more.

"Oh, speaking of that, would you say you had a bad upbringing?" Sam had turned all Officer Wesson again.

"Dude, we were just talking about your problems and you managed to turn it round to _me_." Dean shook his head and chuckled, sitting back and resting his head on the top of the sofa.

"But seeing as you asked, I guess it wasn't as good as it could have been."

"Do you regret doing what you did when you were fifteen?" Sam couldn't shake the thought of that bastard that had used Dean when he was younger, he didn't know why but it had been bugging him since their conversation the night before.

"Sometimes." Dean had cut trying to joke around, sometimes he had to stop the crap and actually talk about how he really felt.

Sam just sighed heavily and slowly put a hand down on Dean's arm, his touch felt like fire.

Gulping, Dean continued:

"Sometimes it's all I can think about. The most awkward fucking time as when I was with this guy, I had to stop. I had this weird cold sweat and I was having these shitty flashbacks." Dean shook his head as though the memory sickened him. Sam moved his hand further up Dean's arm.

But Dean decided enough serious talk was enough.

"So Wesson, have you ever been with a dude?" And once again, Sam was starting to feel very awkward and more than uncomfortable, he shifted around on the seat and looked down at the carpeted floor, trying to think of an answer.

" _No_." But Sam's voice betrayed him and went ridiculously high, making Dean laugh slyly beside him before turning back with a glint in his green eyes.

"What? _Never_?!" Winchester pretended to sound surprised, he too had moved his hand and was gently running his fingertips along the inside of Sam's arm.

It was fucking _distracting_.

"No, I've never been with a guy." Sam shook his head,meh actually wished that he had been with a guy before, especially someone like Dean Winchester.

"Well y'know... We could totally change that if you wanted." And Dean let a smile slip all the way across his face, his white teeth shining in the dull light as Sam looked up with wide hazel eyes; wanting more than anything for Winchester to be being honest about it.


	6. Feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a short chapter to lead up to the next one :)  
> Thank you so much everyone for the positive response!  
> Happy reading ;)

Sam felt his body go stiff and he glanced down at the floor, he didn't really know where else to look because Dean's words suddenly felt like a blow to the head for him.

To be honest, Wesson had kind of figured that he was starting to feel something towards Dean, even when he had seen him at the side of the road he'd thought that the man had felt different to him than everybody else.

"Dean." Sam gulped quietly, glancing up quickly before looking straight back down once again.

"Hmm?" Dean replied softly, closing the space between the two men on the sofa until Sam could feel the warmth radiating from Dean's body beside him, it was making it hard for him to breathe.

"I don't know what to do." And Dean took his hand and placed it on Sam's chin, guiding his head up until the two were staring at each other, he could see the worry building up in Sam's sparkling hazel eyes and felt a twinge of guilt, maybe he was moving too fast.

"Sammy, we don't have to do anything you don't want to do." And Dean figured it was the first time he'd ever spoken sincerely to Wesson, he didn't usually make a habit of being serious around cops.

"Wait, did you just call me _Sammy_?" Sam sounded oddly amused and to be quite frank, Dean hadn't even noticed. All he knew was that it fit him and made the six foot something man seem even cuter than he had seemed before.

"Maybe I _did_." And Dean stuck out his chin again and pouted, laughing lightly under his breath. But then Sam was moving in, and he wasn't really thinking about what he was doing because his heart was racing so damn fast and his mins was so messed up but all he knew was that his lips were smashing into Dean's.

And it felt fucking amazing. It was like everything else around them dripped away as Sam moved his hands up Dean's arms until they brushed against the short spikes of his brunette hair and it had felt so much softer than it looked.

" _Damn_ Sam." Dean muttered breathlessly, pulling away for less than a millisecond before returning to Sam's soft mouth once again and pressing their lips together as they had been only moments before.

Sam's head felt like it was about to explode, all these thoughts and only one brain to keep them in, he figured that if he hadn't of made a move soon, he would have died of anticipation. Sam thought that nothing could get better than this beautiful moment that he'd been thinking about constantly for the last forty-eight hours and then it did, it actually got better. How the _fuck_ could it have gotten any better?!

But Dean Winchester had turned out to be the best at kissing that Sam had ever experienced, and he was starting to slowly push his tongue against Sam's bottom lip, asking for permission.

And Sam was more than happy to let Dean inside, soon enough he felt the man's tongue slowly pressing against his, wrapping around it and fluttering inside and it was the most amazing feeling he'd ever experienced.

Gently separating the two, Sam quickly glanced down and felt his eyes grow wide at the sight of the obscene bulge in his pants.

But, Dean being Dean and obviously noticing, the other man muttered something under his breath before gently sliding his hand across the chair until it was resting on Sam's hardening dick.

"Fucking hell!" He whimpered under his breath, biting down hard on his bottom lip and looking up at Dean with a lustful glint in his hazel eyes.

"Do you like that, Sammy?" Dean's voice was soft and gentle, he palmed Sam's cock with his hand through the other man's jeans and it was all Wesson could do to stop himself from coming right there.

"I fucking _love_ it." He'd given up trying to pretend that he wasn't interested in Dean, hell, Winchester was all that he'd been thinking about and here the man was, palming him off as he tried not to ejaculate in his pants.

"Good boy, you're fucking _gorgeous_." Dean whispered again, he was getting closer to Sam, moving in until he was virtually sitting on the taller man's lap (which Sam would have been _totally_ fine with).

And before Sam could try and think of a reply, Dean was slowly moving his fingers up to the top of Sam's trousers and fiddling with the little zip, using two hands to slowly pull it down.

" _Jesus_." Sam whimpered again, balling his fists and digging his hands into the soft material of the couch as Dean began to move his fingers inside his pants until they fell upon his boxers. Sam knew that it was probably obvious that he had dribbles of precome beaded across the blue material of his boxers, and he could see the small smirk on Dean's face, and that, as well as the fact that he was now incredibly turned on, made everything twice as good.

"So _hard_ for me, Sammy." Dean muttered. And before Sam even had the chance to open his eyes, Dean was pulling down the waistband of his boxer shorts and slowly sliding his mouth down onto the top of his pulsing cock.

"Oh my fucking _God_!" He threw his head back and bucked his hips forward at the sensation of Dean's soft lips wrapping around his dribbling head.

"Gonna make you feel _so_ good Sammy, so fucking _good_." Dean ran his tongue along the underside of Sam's thick shaft and felt the tall man shudder beneath him.

"Yeah, fuck, _yes_." Sam chanted low under his breath, his breath was running at a strange pace but it felt so fucking right.

Dean placed two hands at the base of Sam's cock, fluttering his eyelashes at the man in front of him as their eyes locked and he pushed his mouth down as far as it would go, taking in all of Sam's length.

And Sam had to admit, it was fucking impressive that Dean was taking in so much with no trouble, it was actually making him harder, and Wesson didn't even think that that was possible.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos and comments are much appreciated! Thank you so much everybody!  
> Happy reading :)


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